The dining hall doors were carved from black wood. They swung open without a word, revealing a long table already set for two.
And at the far end—
Thoren.
He sat in a high-backed chair, his half-shift gone now, dressed in a black buttoned shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms. His hair was still damp from a recent shower. He looked less like a warrior now and more like a man trying very hard not to look like a king.
Which made me even more suspicious.
I was led to the seat on his right—close enough to feel his presence, far enough to pretend I didn’t.
He didn’t stand. Just looked at me.
“You look well rested,” he said, voice low.
I didn’t answer.
“Eat,” he added, nodding toward the covered dishes. “You need it after how long you slept.”
“I suppose I should thank you for… tucking
